


present tense

by kehlee



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Rent, roger is dead and mark is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehlee/pseuds/kehlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark knew he'd be alone someday, but he never expected it to be this painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	present tense

**Author's Note:**

> the world's saddest song played on the world's tiniest sad violin. mark is crying. just a drabble i wrote because heartbreaking angst is the best to write.

He hasn't been drunk in 1 year, 4 weeks, 3 days. He's been Oh Ha Ha Drunk, but not drunk where he cries and stumbles and forgets his name and collapses. Today marks day 396 and he's celebrating by sitting on the rooftop alone and goddamn if he doesn't drink himself to death today because he just doesn't want to /feel/ anymore. His hands are shaky and vision blurred and he hasn't thought about him in thirty minutes and damn that's an accomplishment because because because.. because he's alone now, haha, and didn't he just think of him?  
  
He hears Roger's voice past tense gentle and floating as he speaks I-Should-Tell-You and he thinks no, no, no. I should. I should tell /you/. He imagines the scraps of paper with scribbles through them so angrily that they must be song lyrics to be about him because he can't stand this anymore.  
  
Maybe Mark stumbles (more like tumbles) down the stairs and falls into the couch again mumbling things about i-should-tell-yous and the-song-thesong-the-the-thesongroger. His hands tremble. A scent wafts through his nose and he thinks ishouldtellyou present tense, how dare he wait this long.  
  
When he first made contact with the large red plus sign and clinics and the stench of blood he knew his days to express were numbered and each day his tongue twitched as he thought of words to stumble over and try to say but instead he kept it quiet, kept it to polite friendly platonic normal godforsaken normal conversation. He'd still his urge to speak by picturing Roger alone in the apartment as he sat on pavements, and he'd rekindle that urge by picturing Roger's dead body.  
  
That argument raged within himself for years and eventually the first won. Unrequited became Dead, Two became Alone, and the Fender guitar sits collecting dust.  
  
The sun peeks up and shines through the windows. He forces himself to stand. His hands absently brush over the strings of Roger's guitar, and instead of feeling comfort, he feels even more alone. Mark puts up curtains his mother sent him years before by duct taping them tightly over the windows, curls up in Roger's empty bed, and falls asleep.


End file.
